Death's Mafia
by Mage-Alia
Summary: After the war Harry has had enough of Wizards and Magic. He leaves the wizarding world with nothing but the clothes on his back before a friend suggests he hire a bodyguard and take a vacation. He heads out on an adventure and along the way finds a family he didn't ask for, but certainly needed. HP multicrossover. No pairings.
1. Side A

Disclaimer: I hold no rights over any of the following stories, I'm merely playing in their sandboxes for fun

* * *

A Harry Potter / KHR / WET / American Gods / Assassin's creed / FF15 / Venture Bros. / Dead Like Me Multi-Crossover

* * *

Death's Mafia

by Mage-Alia

* * *

A/n: so. Here's a plot bunny that wasn't going to go away even if I wanted it too. XD

I get bored at work, so I set myself challenges to keep myself occupied. This time it was to create a sky set with a specific theme. The rules I set myself went...

-every character must have a connection to death.

-every character must be able to function comfortably within the chosen era.

-any character picked must either be a background character or operating outside of their media timeline (so nothing can happen during the plot of their story)

-no two characters can come from the same universe

\- and they can't be one of the characters of KHR.

so with those in mind I just went apeshit on it. *snorts*

* * *

When Harry first met Rubi, it was across a fold out table, aboard his friends rickety tug boat, floating on the Thames.

The idea had been simple.

To get as lost in the Muggle world as he could. Harry had left as soon as he'd rolled out of his hospital bed, taking nothing with him other than his wand and the clothes on his back. He'd vanished into London's back alleys and hidden catacombs and never settled down. Survival had consumed his thoughts, blocking out the nightmares and the pain that had haunted him since the final battle. Living hand to mouth he'd stole food and money, worked odd jobs for shady characters, becoming a forgettable face in an even more forgettable crowd.

At least until he started to make some unusual friends.

Harry wasn't the only veteran on the streets.

He'd spent the night in a shelter during one particularly bad storm and woken up screaming. An older man with a ratty grey beard who looked half insane had watched him as he'd rolled from the cot he'd been assigned and scrambled for a weapon that wasn't there, dry heaving all the while. The man, Phil, had diagnosed him on the spot with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and stayed up with him the rest of the night telling stories of his own tours of duty in a low droning voice. In an uncharacteristic display for one of the homeless, he'd told him all about coming home from the war only to find himself unable to fit in with the family he'd left behind and unable to find a new job he'd just up and left, taking to the streets and not looking back... just like Harry had.

Although he couldn't tell them about the Wizarding world, Harry found himself sharing his own stories and when the older veteran left the shelter Harry went with him.

Phil introduced him to a whole new world within the place where the dregs of society went to die. Others like themselves had created a network, a collective of their own where they leaned on each other to hide or heal. He'd stayed among them for nearly six months before he gathered the courage to at least try to return to the world above.

It had been a suggestion from his friend that he leave the country.

With so many of his memories tied to Great Britain, it certainly wouldn't hurt to get away from it all. When he'd admitted to never having left its borders or even having a passport they'd helped him apply for one. Finally, they'd suggested hiring a travel companion, a guide. Someone who could watch his back and help him deal with the people who would inevitably not understand his mind and how it worked.

When he admitted he could afford to do so no one was surprised. Most of the veterans still had pension, homes and families. They just chose not to use them.

So they sent out a call, quietly through the network, for someone who might be interested in being a bodyguard for an undisclosed amount of time and a man by the name of Milo had answered.

He had a friend that need to get away for a while almost as badly as he did and so they met. On the tug boat, in the middle of the Thames.

And something had clicked.

For Harry it felt like a limb suddenly coming to life. The sharp static of pins and needles in the back of his head before the rolling thunder of a distant storm rumbled in his mind, filling a silence that he hadn't known was there in his brain. It was startling and sudden and Rubi Malone had nearly shot him before she calmed down and admitted the feeling, whatever it was, felt _good_.

So in the dead of night, his new bodyguard in tow, Harry had gone into Diagon Alley. In a tense meeting with Goblins he'd negotiated the release of his accounts and set up access to them via an affiliated bank in the Muggle world and with funding in hand, he'd left the wizarding world. Making a B line for the nearest airport and taking the first available flight out of he country.

By the time the wizards woke and heard the rumors of his presence, Harry Potter was long gone.

* * *

New York City was an overwhelming hive of life. People went about their days with and urgency that brought to mind constant motion. Nothing stopped, someone was always awake, stores were always open... it was a perfect place to get lost.

Harry and Rubi embraced their sudden anonymity and done all the things tourists did. Visiting the famous landmarks, spending days at a time living off street food. Harry indulged his curiosity, buying things he might never have bothered with if he hadn't had an expanded trunk on him. They'd been having so much fun, that Harry figured it was only a matter of time before the other shoe finally dropped and when it did... well...

Going to Chinatown had been the obvious mistake.

Rubi knew better. She hadn't spent all these years in the mercenary life without running into Triads and hell, they had a great memory for those that pissed them off... or in Rubi's case, wholesale slaughtered them in the past.

Harry's anxiety about the situation hadn't helped and she'd been forced to retreat from the fight. Triads had given chase, yelling in incomprehensible Chinese and broken English to catch them... to catch _Him_.

Rubi had repressed her own need to fight, the red rage creeping into the corner of her vision as they ran through a warehouse and out into the streets. Getting in front of a cyclist, a guy no older than Harry in appearance, she threw a fifty dollar note at his face and told him he'd be good for another if he just got Harry out of there. The kid had stared at her in mute surprise until shout and gunshots spurred him into action, Harry flung himself onto the back of the bike and the kid kicked off, gunning it around the corner and toward the city centre.

The last view they had of Rubi was of the woman rounding on the Triads as they spilled into the street, a corona of crimson flames visible around her and Berserker Rage burning in her eyes.

* * *

The kid was called Desmond.

Well, he wasn't a kid really. He was nineteen to Harry's eighteen and when he'd come across Rubi and Harry that morning, he'd been running too. Until a few months ago he'd lived in a place called 'The Farm'. The Farm had been a place of no modern conveniences, no contact with the outside world and training training training. All hours of every day. Suffocated by the ever present authority of the elder generation and unwilling to spend his time doing nothing but exercise, he'd skipped out the first chance he had.

Realizing his dream to own a motorcycle and with plans to vanish into the mass of people in the same way Harry had he'd come to New York. But, with dwindling funds and fewer job prospects for a guy with no official education, he'd prepared himself to move on... until he'd been pulled over and bribed into taking Harry away. They'd raced through the city, the thrill of being chased lighting something in Desmond's veins that he didn't understand, but somewhere deep down, he'd liked it.

He'd liked it a lot.

So when they slowed to a stop outside the younger guy's hotel, he'd gotten off his bike, fully intending to just collect the promised money, until a little voice in the back of his mind whispered something else... _'what if we stay?'_

The thought was sudden, invasive and sharp. It needled his brain until finally he turned, resolute, and held out his hand to shake.

"Desmond. My name is Desmond Miles." He took Harry's hand, pumping it up and down in a handshake and in that moment something fell into place. Colour flickered in the corner of his eye and he suddenly felt as though he was flying. Soaring through the sky, wind rushing through his hair.

Freedom.

He didn't know why. But in that moment, introducing himself to the stranger, he felt like he'd found Home.

* * *

When Rubi returned to the hotel, covered in blood and a bottle of tequila in hand, she'd found her travel companion and his new friend lounging before the television in their suite, laughing at some terrible movie on the screen. She hadn't had the energy to care as she grunted at them and made straight for the bathroom, shedding bloodied clothing without a single thought for the audience. Desmond had spluttered comically before she'd passed out of sight and the shower turned on.

Something Harry had learned quickly about the Mercenary was that she cared little for modesty. It had been a surprise at first, but Harry, having seen everything the streets had to offer one way or another, wasn't fazed by her casual nudity in the least. Of course she was attractive. Any idiot could see that. But he himself had lost interest in other people since the war.

He did laugh though, when Rubi threw herself on to the couch beside him in nothing but a towel and Desmond freaked out once more. She took a long swig from her bottle of spirits before she handed it to Harry. He took a swig of his own and offered it to the still spluttering rider before giving it back to his bodyguard.

"So." Rubi began, rolling a baleful eye toward them. "How the fuck did you get an ability that's hunted for by the mafia?" Harry had honestly been confused. She'd been briefed on Magic when she'd become his bodyguard, so she couldn't mean that...

"Fuck." She sighed, slugging back another mouthful from her bottle. "Alright. So this tiny little Chinese fucker said you're a Sky... whatever the fuck that means." She stared at the movie on the screen before them unseeingly. The... baby, had been there when she'd come out of her rage. Dressed in silks and if it hadn't been for his obvious youth and the distinct red dummy hanging from his neck, she might have mistaken him for one of those tiny wizened old mummies she saw in that anime one time.

"Little fuck said something about a set, seven different colours, that the sky was important and that I was like him, that I'm a _Storm_." Red flames, flickered almost imperceptibly at her fingertips, but vanished in the time it took Harry to blink.

He blinked again and then looked over at Desmond.

"Is purple a colour?" He asked, the slightly older teen stared back at him wide eyed and Rubi groaned, taking the hint... then another drink.

"Fuck. I'm not drunk enough for this shit." She moaned. Desmond gave a nervous giggle and looked at Harry for answers, but the green eyed boy just shrugged.

Hell if he knew any better.

They spent the rest of the evening watching the movie and passed out in varying states of inebriation, right there on the couch.

* * *

They skipped town the next day.

Unwilling to hang around after the clusterfuck that had been their trip to China Town, Harry settled the bill with the hotel, shrank Desmond's motorcycle and hopped the first domestic flight across state lines. Desmond came with them. When he revealed he had nothing better to do and nowhere to go, Harry had insisted he join them. It wouldn't do to leave behind the newly bonded cloud... or at least that's what Rubi called him. Honestly she wasn't sure about it either, but she'd already called ahead to Milo for more information. He was in England. Thus much better placed to find out what the hell was going on in the Italian mafia that was said to be gunning for them.

They disembark from the plane in Cleaveland of all places and wind up in a dive bar waiting for Rubi's information broker to come through. The three of them made an odd scene. Both Desmond and Harry are too young to be in a bar. Twenty-one was the legal age there although they would have been fine almost anywhere else. Rubi, fierce as her reputation is, is torn between hovering over them protectively or keeping her distance to preserve what reputation she has left.

In the end she need not bother.

Harry and Desmond are interrupted from their umpteenth thumb war when a tray is set down on their table by a blonde woman. She gives them an empty smile as three shot glasses are transferred to the chipped wooden surface and steps back as a big black man appears as if out of nowhere, seated on the other side of their booth.

Rubi draws a blade on him, but he barely seems to notice it. The single dark eye, the one not concealed by an eye patch, stares intently at Harry.

Green eyes can see the glimmers. The sparks of light and fire that linger in the peripheral of his vision

"I had a feeling, that you're going to need an odd body." He addresses Harry, ignoring the other two and reality ripples around him.

' _Indigo_. _Mist.'_

Rubi cursed as she recognized it herself.

The one eyed man merely smirked and slid one of the shot glasses across the table.

"Three drinks to seal the deal." He began with an air toward a ritual. As if the words had been said many times before. "Honeyed mead. Just like old times. I'll do anything you want me to until you die. I'll guard your secrets and stand watch at your grave, unless you do something that puts innocent lives in needless danger or you piss me off."

Harry looked at him. Really looked. His eyes narrowed and flickered to the blonde waitress.

"... and your... familiar?" There was a strong link there in the way she hung around. Too wide eyes and her round face were pretty but there was something off about her, something different... reality warped again and it became obvious that the man's powers were keeping her secrets because in that moment it was obvious she was dead. Conscious and alive, but very very dead.

"His wife." She corrected him and Harry just raised an eyebrow.

"And if I never die?" The green eyed sky asked, hinting at something deeper that the other seemed to grasp the very edges of in the way the blonde seemed suddenly wary of him.

"Neither will I." He was amused. So was Harry honestly. He gave a short laugh and grabbed the first glass.

"Finally, what's your name?" At that the man laughed outright.

"Shadow." He introduced himself, a slight of hand producing a business card. "Shadow Moon."

Harry slugged back the shot.

* * *

They meandered across the country after that. Shadow turned out to be a rather good tour guide once they mentioned they were on holiday. Getting away from their own worlds for a while until anywhere felt nice enough to settle down.

Shadow drove a car he said he'd inherited from his last boss. It was a big black classic model who's value was honestly lost on Harry, but Desmond and Rubi approved at least. It was bigger on the inside, like ministry cars and sometimes seemed like it was invulnerable to damage. Shadow's mist was the most obvious source of the changes, but the man also enlightened them to the power of belief. His old boss had taught him magic based on belief, and that the people who flashed in and out of Shadow's presence were gods. Although he'd never really been religious, Harry could at least believe that these people were powerful in some way that wasn't flames and wasn't magic.

But that really wasn't his concern now was it.

Still, Shadow continued to drive. From one great or big monument to another. It was nice, in a way, getting lost in the middle of nowhere America, going without seeing others for so long that it almost always felt good to come back to civilization. They learned as they went too, experimenting with the new powers they'd unlocked and teaching themselves how to function as a unit.

It was weeks later that they found themselves in the State of Washington. Clear across the country from where they'd picked up Shadow. It was a mystery how they'd made it there as quickly as they had but they figured there was some mist or magic involved. Seattle seemed nice that time of year though.

Their party had only just rolled into town as stores were opening and Shadow professed a desire for waffles.

Waffles.

Baffled by the sudden and specific craving, the others had followed him to a cosy diner called "Der Waffle Haus". Rubi and Desmond had been bickering about superheroes and their powers after Desmond had stumbled across a pile of comics and started having dreams about assassins. The specific characters in his dreams were vivid and had some of the most insane adventures. Given how consistent they were Shadow, the most spiritual of their quintet had suggested that he might be reliving a past life.

Desmond had immediately went on a rant about a range of other powers he'd prefer over putting a blade in someone's back. Rubi had complained about how easy her job would be if she had some of the powers in those comics and they'd been debating it all night.

So they didn't notice when the undead woman in their midst started to look uncomfortable and fidget. Shadow took one look at her and sighed.

"More?" He asked and she nodded, shrinking behind him. Harry followed her line of sight and noticed the group sitting in a booth on the other side of the restaurant gaping at him. Shadow sighed again and said one word that made the green eyed man's heart sink.

"Reapers."

And it all made sense.

Being dead it would make sense that Laura Moon would be terrified of her afterlife, but it was their focus on him that forced him to remember. Recall things that had lead to his unwanted and brief status as the Master of Death. Or so he thought. Laura had been afraid of him too at first. She'd told them how she'd argued with Shadow to stay away from him, but the sky attraction had been strong and eventually, she'd learned that Harry didn't really care what she did. She was dead, yes. But she was there by her own will. Was she avoiding her just rewards? Certainly. But he knew as well as she did that it wasn't forever. She came back because Shadow loved her. She stayed at his whim and he was all that stood between her and an ending she'd rather not see. Somewhere along the line the undead had become a familiar. A being tied solely to the strange Magic's that Shadow wielded.

But the reapers weren't looking at her...

A hurried conversation happened at the table on the other side of the room as he sat down. A perky looking waitress that was too awake for the time of day took their orders and Harry was just beginning to relax when one of the young women at the table across rolled out of her seat. The others looked at her mortified, a ragged young man hissing at her to stop as she marched across the room and came to stand by their table, hands in pockets as she rocked back and forward on her heels.

Her face seemed innocent, but her bearing was not. She opened her mouth, eyes on Harry, and said the words he dreaded most.

"Hi Boss."

Harry groaned and let his head slump down onto the table with a solid _**Thunk**_!

Blue rippled toward him and a new link settled into place.

His rain guardian was a Grim Reaper...

He was beginning to detect a theme.

* * *

So an assassin, a mercenary, a con man with a dead wife and now a Grim Reaper drive around the country together in a black car that's bigger on the inside.

It honestly sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

But there they were, trekking inland once more. Even though he'd liked Seattle, Harry couldn't bring himself to stay there. With the local reapers aware of his presence, or at least emboldened by George's, he knew he had to move on. So move they did. Heading down the western coast for a while before angling inward. They'd gone clear through the northern states and missed a lot in their crossing. Seasons were turning and going further south seemed almost natural.

Their newest addition seemed to be having the time her life.

Georgia 'George' Lass had lived a short life and a colourful death. She'd died young when she'd been hit by a toilet seat of all things, that dropped from orbit. The reaper that shunted her soul from her body before the accident had reached his "quota" and she'd been figuratively left holding the bag. She had a rather placid personality and had pretty much just rolled with the punches until Harry had walked into the Waffle House and sat down.

Apparently, the reapers could see the marks of his station. Even though he'd buried the Hallows, their effects still influenced him to this day and it only took one look to know. He was the Master of Death.

Even so, just because she'd left her team to follow him, she still had work. Reaping, that was. Every morning, no matter where they were or even if they stopped, a post-it note would appear. Sometimes the force that delivered them left them on the nightstand, or in her hand, or in one particular instance they'd stuck it to her forehead. (That time they'd been on the road in the wee hours and it had blinked into existence without warning, making the woman scream in surprise.)

The post-it notes would sometimes have names, others just initials. Sometimes there would be an address to go to or a place to visit, but the only constant was a time. And sure as clockwork, wherever they went, when the time came, George would bump into someone and they'd be popped out of their body to watch what was often an accident of Rube Goldberg style complexity, at least from the perspective of those who knew what was going to happen.

George had said, because of the way she had died, some higher being had decided she should get the joy of reaping people that would die in similar fashions. (She'd given him a narrow look before deciding he hadn't had anything to do with that particular choice.) He still went along with her though. Those deaths were hilarious in ways that made him laugh harder than he ever had before. Oftentimes, the recently dead would complain or cry or scream or simply just stare at him in horror until George would usher them along toward the light in the distance, soothing Rain flames making the process a lot easier now that she'd worked out how to use them to get her way.

They were winding their way through Nevada when George got an odd one. They'd stopped at a roadside motel after Shadow had decided to see if an old friend was in the area. Rubi and Desmond were off training after rolling out of Harry's bed that morning. After waking up on the couch that first day, hungover and in Rubi's case, mostly naked, they hadn't been bothered by sharing. Rubi insisted that as she was still his bodyguard, she should be nearby. Some nights she slept on a chair, others she rolled into his bed but she was rarely more than a few feet away at any one time.

Desmond was much the same, back before they'd run across Shadow and Laura, it had been cheaper just to get one room, especially since Rubi was going to be in there with Harry anyway, they'd gotten used to it. The habit had persisted even when new elements had come along because, of Harry was honest. Having them nearby staved off his nightmares. It was a win win he supposed.

Still, he couldn't help but pull a face as he looked at the post-it note George handed him when they met in the reception.

It was written entirely in some alien gibberish. Like someone had smashed a keyboard and then taken a pen and written out the resulting text. The only two things clear about it was a name "Hank" and a time... which was about five minutes from now...

There was a clatter of sound from across the motel compound. Shouting started and Harry and George stared at each other, wide eyed, before they started running. They leapt out toward the commotion and discovered a half naked guy, holding the rest of his clothes as he tried to get away from a screeching woman. It was bad for a walk of shame, worse that their fight was being witnessed by others. There was a shout of "HANK!" And the two aspects of Death noticed the car heading toward the man. Georg wouldn't reach him in time to pop him out, but in the split second before the chaos went down Harry noticed it.

The green sparks of fire appearing every time one of the woman's random projectiles found its target. Blue eyes rolled over toward him, pleading for help to just stop her, and Harry decided.

The post-it note crumbled to dust in George's fist.

Moving faster than he thought possible, only vaguely aware of the flickering amber in the corners of his vision, Harry rushed from George's side and threw himself at the helpless lightning. The force of his body blow sent them sailing out of the way of the oncoming car, avoiding the accident as the vehicle skidded to a stop. A man that was probably a pimp, given how angry he looked and the overall situation, leapt from the driver's seat, his expression that of someone ready and willing to commit murder.

Harry was on his feet in a second. George raced over to him, a blue flicker in her hand as she got ready.

"BOSS!" The title had become a nickname for the guardians, ever since the Reaper's introduction, but here it made the angry man pause.

It was just enough of one that Rubi had the chance to drop in unannounced.

Literally.

From the roof.

"There a problem here Boss?" She drawled, eyeing the pimp who eyed her weapons in turn. To anyone watching, they could see the gears turning in the man's head, he was wary, and rightfully so. So Harry decided to see if he could push that feeling a bit further, following his gut...

"Ah, no Rubi. I'm sure the gentleman and his... lady friend, were just about to leave."

... and there it was. Recognition.

The man had heard of Rubi Malone. He was clearly working for a criminal element if his seeming occupation was anything to go by. But Rubi had been out of the picture for months. Not long enough to be forgotten in the criminal underworld, but long enough that anyone who cared to know, would have found out that the last time the woman was seen, it had been in New York City, fighting with Triads and in the presence of someone wanted by the Mob.

Seeing the out Harry had given him, and being just the bottom feeder that he was. The pimp cut it and ran. Gathering up the still confused and distressed hooker he tossed her in the car and skidded out of there almost as fast as he'd driven in. Rubi snorted and gestured Desmond to join them from where he was perched on the edge of the roof above them, a knife twirling in his fingers. George took a deep breath and gave her Boss the stink eye as she got a better look at the now dressed blonde man who had grace enough to look sheepish as they turned as one to look at him.

"You've got the worst sort of luck, don't you Boss." The Reaper grumbled.

Harry laughed.

"It's the down side of keeping life interesting."

Rubi snorted.

"Trouble, is what it is." She added. "You're a total magnet."

George agreed.

* * *

Hank is as Lost as Lost Souls can get.

Their wayward Lightning's full name was Henry Allan "Hank" Venture the fifteenth.

And he was a clone.

The reason his Post-it note had been so fucked up was because he'd died a number of times before. Once the cloning facility that stored the spare bodies had been destroyed he'd been a lot more careful with his life, but that didn't mean accidents didn't happen, especially when he claimed that his father was a mad scientist type and he was technically a child adventurer...

He sympathized strongly with Harry's past once he heard the basics and they bonded right then and there over arch-nemesis and controlling father figures.

To make matters worse though, not only was he moderately temporally displaced, but also dimensionally. He'd been with his brother, helping him find something in one of the old labs belonging to their grandfather when he'd set off a machine that after a bright light show had spit him out into the middle of nowhere Nevada with only the clothes on his back and the emergency kit he wore at all times.

He'd stuck around his arrival site for nearly a week before he was forced to leave for supplies and it had long since become a fact that he wasn't going to find his way home there, nor was anyone planning to come get him. (If there was a stray clone of him still around, his family had likely already activated it by now.)

Instead the Venture had spent the last year as a drifter. Going from town to town doing odd jobs, and in a strange lesson learned from his dad's old body guard, maintaining girlfriends who would house and feed him for as long as he could get away with it. The woman from this morning had been the latest attempt, but it had backfired spectacularly. Still. He was glad to be invited along and they inevitably skipped town once more to avoid the trouble of dealing with the fallout of what they'd done to save Hank in the first place.

That was becoming a theme too.

* * *

It was starting to feel crowded in their car, even with their expanded space as they circled around Colorado and Arizona before making their way to California and into Los Angeles. Arriving in the big city only highlighted how long it had been since they'd settled anywhere and even though they tried to remain decent, they still rolled into town looking like a collection of dirty backpackers. Well. Harry, Desmond, Hank and George did. Rubi, Shadow and Laura appeared untouched by their time on the road. They'd managed their travel a lot better than the younger four, who hadn't had much to start with between them. Two runaways, a drifter and a dead person.

It was with an odd sense of shame that Harry offered to get them some better fitting stuff now that they weren't effectively living out of tourist destinations. So a suitcase of decent clothing later Hank was dressed up in a bomber jacket that he insisted, reminded him of his dad's bodyguard, George was in a semi-work/casual outfit that made her come off as a personal secretary at a casual glance and Desmond's choices had been pretty plain, sticking to shades of white, grey and red while his only really special purchase was a hoody. White and zippered at an angle with a dark red lining, it had an etching of an eagle on the back. Wings spread wide across his shoulders, it was an obvious reference to his past self.

Their last stop had been formal wear, the itch in the back of Harry's head that hadn't steered him wrong yet had been nudging him toward the nearest store all day and eventually he managed to drag the others in. Even Shadow and Rubi, only to find himself staring at a girl who shines so brightly she glows.

Clad in white, she looks as though she's related to Hank in colouring. Platinum blonde hair done up in a high ponytail, ageless blue eyes that stare deep into their soul's, a slender figure that seems to go on forever with how her outfit is cut. If Harry had been remotely interested in people right then he might have started flirting with her. As it is, she looks so much like Luna. The Luna he left behind along with everything else in his life before he ran away.

It it's not his Luna. Her name tag says Lunafreya.

She smiles at them as they shuffle into the store, and with all the poise and grace of royalty she takes his hands and the bond all but blooms, wrapping around the others and engulfing them with a warmth.

She's not a Moon.

She's a sun and she was waiting for them.

And then the moment is over and the illusion falls away to reveal a cream coloured blazer and skirt as she steps back and asks them what they were looking for. Harry spends the rest of the visit in a daze as she dresses up the others. All calm as could be she rings up the sale, turns to her manager and hands in her notice before taking off the name tag, putting on a different white dress and taking the skies arm to guide him out of the store and down the street, cheerily saying how it's her turn to treat them to a meal to celebrate the completion of their set.

She knows more than she ought to. A veritable fountain of secrets that she murmurs to him as they enter a hotel restaurant and are immediately led to a table set for eight. Harry is set at the head of the table, Rubi on his left, Luna on the right and it's seated there that Wayward Wizard comes out of his daze and realizes that somehow, he's built himself a family. Six people bound to him through a mysterious ability, but a family none the less.

He decides that it might be time to stop running from his past, and from his nightmares... he won't have to face them alone anymore.

... and then a baby with a fedora and a yellow pacifier walks through the door.

* * *

A/N: I think I'll leave this as a one shot for now and see how it goes.

Ps: there's about half a chapter of Memories of Eternity ready to go so that's prolly gonna be updated next.

Pps: this is also getting posted to Ao3 under my secondary username

Ppps: The first iteration of this was done on my Ipad. It was edited and reposted a few hours later to fix the mistakes... Screw the auto correct function!


	2. Side B

Disclaimer : None of the content borrowed for this story belongs to me and no profit is made from this work.

* * *

A Harry Potter / KHR / WET / American Gods / Assassin's creed / FF15 / Venture Bros. / Dead Like Me Multi-Crossover

* * *

Death's Mafia

by Mage-Alia

Side B

—

Summary: There are two sides to any story and now it's time for the hunter's perspective

* * *

When the war ended, wizarding kind celebrated. With reckless abandon seen only one other time when Voldemort was first defeated. News was fast to spread out into the muggle communities that the terrorist threat that had haunted them for the last decade was finally over. Their ringleader dead, it was only a matter of time until the last of the terrorist sympathizers were caught and imprisoned.

So it was a collection of jubilant wizards that found out the hard way that not all was well a few days later. The medi-wizard in charge of the survivors of the battle of Hogwarts walked into the room of their hero of the hour, only to find his bed empty.

Harry Potter had vanished in the night.

They'd tried to keep it under wraps while they investigated. To keep the story from getting out into the population, but it was barely a day before the press got wind and their little world was once again put into uproar. How could this be? Was he taken? Did he leave? There was no sign of a disturbance, but that didn't mean much when the patient had been comatose. The only thing missing was his wand. But that could have easily still been on him when he was taken.

The word went out, everyone turned their eyes to each other trying to find a culprit...

Silly wizards didn't even think to try looking in the muggle world.

* * *

There was a rumor in the underworld of late concerning a rouge sky.

Members of the mafia had been interested to discover that with the end of the terrorist attacks in London, business seemed to have picked up in that neck of the world. Contracts, new and old, appeared for the taking and a few stubborn families that had vanished over the last twenty years or so started coming out of the woodwork.

So it wasn't so much a surprise that a sky manifesting somewhere on the island was now possible. Still. They should have known better than to just walk in and find the target waiting for them. He or she was being infuriatingly difficult to track down. Sometimes the flame actives sent to retrieve them would feel it. The distant glimmer of an obscenely powerful Sky. It was strong enough to scorch them if they got too close with their own flames loose so they'd had to look the old fashion way. Most of the time however, the sky kept a tight lid on their flames, camouflaging themselves against the backdrop of the city.

They'd only come close to finding them once, tracing the errant sky to a men's shelter on the eastern side of London proper before they lost it. They did confirm though that the Sky was a man. Or a teenager really. With Black Hair and Green eyes, the bored looking attendant that manned the front desk had told them that he'd kicked up a stink with a nightmare around the time they'd felt the panicked flare of flames. The only reason they'd waited till morning to investigate was because there had been a horrific storm brewing all night and no one had wanted to brave the winds.

They'd missed the sky by barely an hour.

* * *

It was a long couple of months for those searching.

They never did track down the sky after that day.

As if he knew he was being followed the Sky went to ground, his flames tampered down and almost forgotten as new patterns formed in the street life. Those with an ear to the ground noticed an odd sort of unity forming among the homeless. While the streets were usually quite dog eat dog, something seemed to be stirring up the old soldiers and veterans. The sport and social club retirees specifically that had trouble getting back into civilian life.

The children were behaving oddly as well, but nothing formal ever came of it. Nothing developed among the criminals... just an undercurrent of the skies Harmony effect rippling around him.

Then, something unusual happened.

Rubi Malone hadn't been seen in the criminal underworld for some time. After her last major throw down she'd taken time away from the mercenary scene to recover, not unusual for her line of work, especially with the grudge the Triads held against her. Still, most major players, including the Italians, kept tabs on where she went if for nothing more than hiring opportunities.

What was alarming now though, was the fact she was clearly a Storm.

Whatever she'd been through recently had been enough to activate Storm flames of surprising purity. They hadn't realized it until she'd marched through their latest search zone on her way to the river. Burning like a pyre in their flame sense she was strong, strong enough that had she been around several years earlier she might have rivaled the Storm Arcobaleno for sheer power. (If she didn't have a penchant for slaughtering them, the Triads would have tried to recruit her instead, no one just passed on that kind of power.)

More alarming still was the ripple they all felt less than a day later when the Sky flared their flame for the first time in three months and the searchers just knew that the stormy feeling to them was all Malone's.

A rouge Sky and a powerful freelance Storm.

Oh they would either be heavens gift to whatever family managed to recruit them, or a living nightmare if they made their own.

* * *

The Triads were having kittens.

By the sixth month of the British Sky Watch it had already become something of a legend. The Hidden Sky.

So when he abruptly jumped continents those not directly looking didn't notice right away. It was a rude surprise for the Triads though, when the dark haired young man with the wide green eye's and the soldiers shine wondered into the Chinatown area of New York with a known enemy at his side. Underlings panicked, and before the situation could come under any variety of control it exploded in their faces. One opportunistic under boss cornered the Storm and the Sky against a warehouse, yelling and shouting about handing over Her Sky.

It was obvious right from the beginning that something was wrong though. The sheer distress coming through the flaring sky flames nearly floored them all and it snapped Malone out of the Storm induced rage.

She grabbed the green eyed teen and ran.

It was the last the Triads saw of the sky.

Then the Arcobaleno arrived. Their only neutral enforcer, Fon the eye of the storm.

And hadn't that been a sight.

Malone had been wholesale slaughtering the mooks until Fon had jumped in, distracting her long enough for the underlings to get out of the way before she snapped out of the berserk rage... that hadn't stopped her from attacking Fon. The Arcobaleno had matched her blow for blow, hands and feet flying as he dodged bullets and deflected the blade but it was a close thing. The eternal toddler was old and experienced, but Rubi hadn't reached her level of infamy without effort on her part. She was a one woman army that had taken out entire syndicates in the past... and they'd threatened her Sky.

It took far longer then expected for their fight to end, and when it did it was only because both had tired of their sparing match.

"What do you Fucks want anyway?" Rubi panted, sword hanging loosely from her fingers. Fon got to his feet, visibly straightening his clothes and calling back his animal familiar. Rubi visibly relaxed at the sight of the monkey. She had a soft spot for the things, even if she did use her ornaments for target practice occasionally.

"First of all I feel I must apologize on behalf of the local Syndicate." He started once everything was back in it's place. "The actions of the Under boss that cornered you and your Sky were not condoned by the rest of the Syndicate. They were an unhappy second son. He would have been punished for his actions, but it appears you have already meted out justice on his people... most efficiently." As if to punctuate his statement there was a loud wet Slop, as a corpse fell from somewhere on the walkway above them and landed at their feet.

It was the screaming guy who had started it.

Rubi couldn't help the snort of laughter that slipped out of her. She clamped down on her amusement before arcing up again when she processed what the baby had said.

"What the fuck is a Sky?"

That got her an odd look. Actually, it was downright incredulous.

"The young man you escorted away before this fight? He's your bonded Sky. You are his Storm Guardian are you not?" Rubi just stared at him like he'd started dancing and singing to the tune of the cuppycake song.

"My What?! Look, I'm his bodyguard, I was hired to escort him out of the country and shadow him around while he got his head on straight! I have absolutely no fucking idea what the hell you're talking about brat."

If the others had been there they would have laughed outright at the vision of Fon, utterly flabbergasted, if they'd managed to get a hold of themselves before he did that was.

A civilian.

The sky had no clue what he was and Rubi Malone had no clue what flames were either.

Oh lord, these people were terrifyingly powerful and they. had. no. Clue what it was that they did to the criminal underworld around them. They were the eye of a storm the likes of which, not even Fon could incite.

The irony was not lost on him.

* * *

—

Before the night was out there was a pulse throughout the city as sky flames flared just like they had in London. This time though it was the pulse of a stupidly powerful cloud that answered. The watching Italian mafioso were joined by Triads who hunkered down in silent vigil, still smarting from their earlier ass whooping.

They shared their information sparingly, but the mafioso did gather that the Enforcer sent to mediate had had to teach the Storm about flames, or at least the basics.

Civilian (technically) flame users that were already too powerful to ambush.

Well shit.

This time though they were ready and waiting to follow the sky from his hotel when he checked out and headed for the nearest Airport. Having someone hack the systems didn't reveal any bookings under Malone, but they did manage to get someone aboard the same flight to keep up. They hid behind their magazine when Rubi turned in her seat to give them the stink eye, clearly realizing they were being followed even as she began to pickle herself with the tiny bottles of alcohol sold on the flight.

On the other side of the Sky sat a young man who looked vaguely like he came from the continent. There was Arabic in his blood somewhere and hints of Italian. But from the way he sprawled in his seat, half leaning against the sky and legs spread toward the isle, it was clear that he was the new cloud. He was another civilian. There was a low level hum of energy coming from the cloud that put their teeth on edge and it was obvious that he'd had no training with flames, ever. The lone watcher aboard the flight kept his head down and didn't try to make a fuss.

He was only there to observe after all.

* * *

—-

Back in Italy, important eyes all stared at the report with trepidation.

It had been six and a half months since the appearance of the Rouge Sky in London. Interest had pettered out when it became apparent that he was more safely hidden than anticipated. Content with the fact that no one else was going to find him either, the wider Vongola alliance had set up surveillance on the general area of London and left him be.

But the news that he was on the move and gathering Guardians that could fight an Arcobaleno to a standstill was almost terrifying. These people had come out of nowhere. If they'd been around a decade ago they would have been considered among the seven strongest, but they'd been spared that fate by sheer virtue of having been completely dormant before the time of selection.

There was change in the air and the Vongola alliance in particular eyed them warily as they realized the potential.

Others would scramble to try and find the Sky, eager to gain the prestige that came from having such a strong candidate for breeding or leadership.

More still would try to take him out before he could get any stronger.

But all of them agreed that they could not go unwatched.

It was a shame that the Sky would have other ideas.

* * *

—

They hadn't even noticed the mist.

The black man had sidled up to them. His appearance non-threatening, which honestly should have tipped them off, and started talking like he'd been there the whole time. They'd told him everything. From finding the Sky, to what a Sky was. They revealed they were Mafia and how they needed the people in the bar or needed to be able to get them if they got out of hand. Private opinions and thoughts poured out of them and before they knew it the man was thanking them for their time and getting up from his chair. He'd then proceeded to cross the street and walk into the very bar they'd been watching before they shook off the Mist haze and started to panic.

All the watchers were active, they should've been able to feel interference. They'd been trained for it, but he'd just rolled through like their abilities hadn't mattered.

It freaked them out.

Never let it be said that an unattached mist wasn't the most terrifying thing in the world.

What followed though was a stressful week for the watchers.

Unlike the first two, mostly made out of necessity, the bond between the Mist and the Sky didn't snap into place right away. This one took time as they got to know each other. Their courting period was marked by the Sky going around playing tourist, while the mist played guide and the two other guardians hovered in the wings.

But the watchers discovered that the Mist was a con-man the hard way.

He had a partner, a blonde woman who worked behind the scenes, or as a distraction should it come down to it. They were an old, well practiced team that might have been a joy to watch had their schemes not been focused on them. The duo caught them.

Every. Single. Time.

The reason why became apparent when the pair finally harmonized and skipped town, only for the watchers to be unable to follow.

They had no money left and one of them had been arrested for the Mist's chaos.

It was with much agitation that they gave up the hunt.

* * *

—

The next time anyone caught wind of the Sky, it was dozens of states and hundreds of miles away from where they'd last seen him. A crime gang in Nevada had put out the word of Rubi Malone being sighted once more.

She'd dropped in on an incident involving a local working girl who got cheated, only to have the John saved from his just rewards by a dark haired young man with furious green eyes and an unassuming older blonde woman who had called the teen "Boss."

The pimp hadn't taken any chances. When faced with a sword and gun wielding berserker he'd split. Some of the mafioso had been thankful that he hadn't realized the full value of the information. He thought he'd been tattling on the activity of some rich kid with friends.

What it told the Flame users was that discounting the mist's lady friend, they'd picked up two more guardians. Which ones, they didn't know, but the Sky had been recruiting.

The sky watchers, rejuvenated from their break from the duty if nothing else, were quick to pick up the trail. They found the mist's car and followed them from town to town as discretely as they could.

However, once again, the guardians proved to have their number. Everywhere the watching mafioso turned, eyes looked back. They hadn't missed the way the Mist seemed to still be fucking with them. Half way through telling him about their jobs and the wider alliance they belonged to they noticed the Con man's tricks and with loud protests and a few bullets that did nothing to even hit the man, they sent him howling with laughter into the night.

The Mist was not the only one that got the jump on them.

The older woman who looked like she'd been homeless at one point was a very potent rain. She soothed over ruffled feathers when the storm and the cloud argued or fought. Seemed very effective at emotionally shepherding the sky on what were clearly bad mental health days, but the very worst thing about her was the accidents.

Wherever she went.

Accidents Accidents Accidents.

It was like watching the Grim Reaper at work. If they hadn't been so focused on watching her they would never have seen her coming but she'd slide into view, bump into or touch someone, and then that person would die within a minute like she was putting on a show.

The sky was often with her. He would watch the carnage happen and laugh, laugh till he cried at the stupid crashes, pratfalls and over acted death's. He smiled at the rain like she put on a show just for him and she may well have been. Because at least two thirds of the people killed had been coming after the Sky. News had spread of his presence. More and more people took note as their antics became something legendary in the underworld.

Rubi had an apprentice in her mercenary business that was clearly the cloud. The Con Man Mist was putting out feelers into the underworld that no one saw, but definitely felt. The Rain scared them to the point where an order not to make physical contact with her had been issued to all on Skywatch and the Lightning.

Oh don't get them started on the Lightning.

The blonde man was an odd cross between a lemming and a spirit medium. On one hand he'd wonder into some of the dumbest situations. More often than not it was a subconscious use of his flames and their properties that ensured that he hadn't lost his head yet, as he'd wondered into more gunfights and criminal deals than one could poke a stick at. Often having to be rescued by whichever other guardian was nearby.

On the other hand though, he had the stupidly useful ability to roll with the punches, often coming out of things none the worse for wear. He could pick up an item, or even partially disguise himself in a costume and then channel that figure. (Including an impressive impersonation of President Lincoln, whom they'd overheard the man shudder and call _President-bad-touch_ after the fact.) The Sky was in no way bothered by this. He merely shrugged while the cloud and the storm ran after him, rather more high strung about the consequences. (Especially after the incident with the American Natives at the Grand Canyon. How the Lightning managed to get adopted by the tribe after the mess he had made there was beyond them.)

Still. Chaos aside. It was a relief when they finally made their way back to civilization. Avoiding Vegas and looping toward Los Angeles. The team of watchers couldn't be more pleased to see hotels, clean bathrooms and real food that wasn't from a roadside diner.

They settled in fast and sent their reports. Local contacts took the burden of tracking as they took a moment to rest. There we're more than enough hard up paparazzi that would jump at the chance to follow someone for cash.

It was while they were planning to head out and find them again that the next surprise hit them.

The Sun Arcobaleno.

The worlds greatest hit man had waltzed into their hotel room to take over when they felt it. The familiar roll of sky flames that shone with a new edge of light.

The rouge sky had just bonded with a sun.

Which couldn't be possible. After all the only sun of any note that they knew about was the daughter of an old mafia family that swore neutrality and moved to LA a couple of months ago to work as a shop assistant and their rouge sky had spent the day...

The watchers all stared at the report from their paid stalkers in blank surprise.

...shopping.

Oh God damn it!

In addition to their surprise, was the odd look the Arcobaleno wore as he read the report. If one of the watchers could dare themselves to say it, they would have called the look disappointed.

But even the grunts weren't stupid enough to call the tiny hit man on it.

(They liked being alive, thank you very much.)

Still. The toddler had been given a job.

A civilian Sky was an Alien concept. One many had struggled to cope with. After months of careful surveillance they'd finally stumbled upon a name and got to work tracing the Skies lineage. Harry James Potter hadn't been what they'd expected. He was Gentry. Maybe that could explain how it had gone unnoticed for so long. While the Sky has been roughing it around the states he'd been knighted by the British Monarchy in absentia for some action involving terrorists. Not only that, but their agents sniffing around old archives revealed a connection to an old and secretive line of lords that very well could have been flame users. Their legacy had been believed gone until it was connected once more to the Sky.

It was no wonder they hadn't found him till he ran away.

Eighteen, nearly nineteen years old and already a war veteran. The links to the sport and social club fell into place as they speculated what it was he'd done. He was a hero if the knighthood was legit and the trauma of that event explained that sudden appearance as an active. There were signs that indicated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and even if Reborn wanted to he couldn't just train this one. The other mafia heirs he'd tutored had all been without guardians, he'd easily insinuated himself in their lives and guided them the way their parents/benefactors had wanted.

Privately, Reborn wondered, and not for the first time, if it hadn't been the crazy of the mafia rubbing off on him that had lead him to his curse and not just the purity of his flames. (In all honesty he should have seen his fate coming and run for the hills.)

He'd also been curious. Curious to see if this sky would finally be the one to grant his deepest wish, but it wasn't to be. Lunafreya Marcone had been ten steps ahead of all of them if rumors of her foresight were to be believed and she was now situated in the civilian's Sky.

He squashed the envy as he put on his hat and gathered Leon before making his way to the hotel lounge.

While this Rouge sky had come out of the blue, he'd built himself the beginnings of a solid family with Guardians that outshone anything the Vongola could currently produce.

The kid wasn't related to them. They'd checked, going over records as far back as the records went. They did find rumors of flame users in the UK many years past, but other than that, the Sky, Harry Potter, was something new.

And given their newness, something they might be able to take advantage of down the line.

So with an invitation to a Vongola social event (where they could attempt the draft them into the Alliance) in hand, he marched into enemy territory and discovered the Sky and his guardians arranged along a table waiting for him.

And then Marcone Scowled and he remembered how new the sun's bond was.

Oh. Oh well.

"Ciaossu!"

He was just the messenger this time after all.

* * *

A/N: UNEXPECTED UPDATE

I've had this one cooking for a while and finally managed to make it long enough to be worth posting. I figured since the rest of it was so well recieved it might be nice to actually put it up. Still, don't expect more on this story, but there may be the occasional thing on "What happens on the road trip".

But don't count on it. XD

As always this has been reposted to my Ao3 account under the name Auraion, so don't be surprised if it's familiar

* * *

Don't forget to review

Cya


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